


Where You Belong

by MissCricket



Series: 30 Dragon Age Fics [1]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-14
Updated: 2012-08-14
Packaged: 2017-11-12 02:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/485823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissCricket/pseuds/MissCricket
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set during Act 2. Carver gets the letter about his mother from Gamlen and struggles with the news. Nathaniel and his new Warden family are determined to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Where You Belong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kelcat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelcat/gifts).



> Prompt: Life
> 
> Written because writing Carver/Nathaniel with Kelcat has been incredible and really...considering how much I RP them I really should write them more...and you gotta start somewhere right?

Nothing stayed secret among the Wardens for long.

It was the price one paid to have a highly trained and often intelligent fighting force all in the one place. People talked, and people cared, because in many ways being in the Wardens was like having a large, extended, messed up but loving family. And Maker knew you needed a family when bad news came around. 

In this case only reason it took so long for Nathaniel to hear about the missive that had come for the young Warden, Carver Hawke, was because he had been out on patrol with some of the newer recruits, teaching them about tracking and hunting Darkspawn raiding parties. 

It didn’t take long for him to find out when he got home though.

“Have you seen him?” The healer mage Eilonwy, one of the Circles’ recruits to the Wardens, sat down beside him as he settled down to eat his stew, “Carver?” she expanded when he just looked at her blankly, “Carver Hawke?”

“I know who Carver is Eilonwy.” Nathaniel drawled, spooning a mouthful of stew into his mouth.

Carver Hawke had been a thorn in his side since day one.

Stroud had brought the lad with him from his mission into the Deep Roads of the Free Marches. At first Nathaniel had thought the boy had been recruited in the usual way, and taken to Ansburg to be initiated with the Joining. The Commander had told him the real story in her office the night the pair arrived from the north, of how sick the boy had been, how close to death and how Anders had been the one to beg Stroud to take him, that he was worth the Warden’s time.

The news that Anders was alive and well had been a pleasant surprise, but the Commander had refused to send Wardens after him. “We are not the Templar order Nathaniel. He chose to leave us...I hope that one day he will choose to return.”

The reason she had told him the story, the circumstances behind Carver’s conscription was because the lad hadn’t accepted it yet, he was not adjusting to Warden life. He isolated himself and pushed everyone away, something the Commander thought was to protect himself from people hurting him first.

“Help him...” he said to him, “Make his adjustment here easier.”

It was the first order she’d given him that he had completely failed at.

Carver and he fought constantly, a never ending battle of wills and stubborn pride that had quickly become legend in The Keep. Nathaniel had given up trying to deter the people who would linger around the Training Yards when he took the younger Wardens through Training. And even though he made a conscious effort to try and help the boy, or try and not rise to their arguments, somehow every single time he trained him they ended up shouting at each other. Carver was proud and prone to insubordination; questioning almost every order he was given. Nathaniel was strict, used to discipline and structure, and Carver rebelled against it. 

That was bad enough, but what was worse to Nathaniel was the fact that it was not just that that made him snap at the boy. 

For all his faults, his pride, his stubbornness...Carver was fiercely intelligent, quick to see the holes in any plan, and he was a fine warrior. And with that strong jaw, ink black hair and those ocean blue eyes....the boy was attractive. 

Too often Nathaniel found himself drifting off to thoughts of bending the warrior over his desk, or tying him to his bed, taking him against the training yard fence. Too often Nathaniel felt his eyes linger on the smooth, youthful skin as the younger Wardens practiced hand to hand combat.

That the boy defied him constantly just stoked the fires of frustration.

“Have you seen him though?” Eilonwy’s concerned voice broke through his reverie, “He’s not been down to eat since he got the letter this morning...”

“What letter?” Nathaniel’s food paused halfway to his lips and he looked at the elf girl more closely.

“Hadn’t you heard?” Eilonwy’s face grew even sadder, “He goat letter from his family in Kirkwall. His mother was murdered by blood magic.”

Maker...

“And no one thought to look for him?” Nathaniel snapped, standing up and pushing away his food as he stood, mind racing. Carver adored his mother, everyone knew it, just as everyone knew that Carver loved and resented his older brother in equal measures.

“That’s why I was asking you!” Eilonwy followed him, hiking up the skirt of her robes to keep up with him as he strode down the hallway, out of the dining hall, “He’s usually somewhere near you.”

“Tch...” He stopped in the great hall, thinking, “Check the living wings of the Keep, he might be hiding out somewhere there, and check the training yard...I’ll check the battlements and the armouries.”

The girl nodded and raced off, grabbing Velanna, who was heading towards the dining hall, with her as she ran. Nathaniel smiled slightly at the aggravated sounds from the former Dalish mage but the smile soon fell away as he turned towards the stairs up to the tops of the Keep.

Carver...

It didn’t take long for Nathaniel to find him, locating him on the battlements, leaning against the wall, dark head bowed over a crumpled bit of parchment in his hand.

He didn’t think he’d ever seen the lad look so small...so vulnerable.

“Carver.”

The blue eyes lifted to his and the boy tried to paste on a scowl.

“Here to scold me for missing training Howe? Well don’t bother; I don’t need to hear it.”

Nathaniel huffed an exasperated sound, “I wish you’d stop assuming the worst Carver. I’m here because I heard...”

“What?” Carver struggled up to his feet, fists clenching, “What did you hear?”

“Careful puppy.” Nathaniel warned, seeing the warning signs, “I’m making allowances for your grief but I’m not here to be your punching bag.”

“I’m not a puppy!” Carver shouted the words, stepping closer, blue eyes almost feverish, “And why the fuck are you here? Do you want to berate me like usual? Make me feel even more shit about myself than I already do?” He stepped close once more, and Nathaniel fought the urge to step back, “I should have been there! If I’d been there instead of wasting my time here....I should have protected her!”

“You are not wasting time; the Grey Warden’s have a sacred trust...”

“Oh bollocks to that.” The boy spat bitterly, “I don’t belong here, I didn’t even want to be a Warden...Garrett made that decision for me!”

“Be that as it may, you are one now.” Nathaniel said firmly, “And you could be a good one if you stopped sabotaging yourself every step of the way.”

“I do not...”

“Stop lying to yourself Carver.” Nathaniel barked the words, “You could be a great Warden, you have the talent, you have the mind for it, the knack...The only reason you’re failing at this is because of you and you alone. And its only made worse by the fact you are so damn talented...and its wasted!”

“Shut your face!” Carver shouted at him, and lunged at the older man, knocking them both flat on the battlement. They struggled together for long moments, Carver was heavier and stronger but Nathaniel was faster and had more flexibility and soon enough he had the boy pinned, arm in a lock.

“Carver...” Nathaniel growled down at him and then paused, seeing something new in the boy’s eyes. There....arousal...and then it died, followed by despair and then quickly by anger, “Carver.”

“Get off me.” The young Warden growled, struggling, “Let go of me.”

“Shut up.” And Nathaniel leaned down, seeing the way the boy’s eyes darkened slightly. Interesting but this was not the time...Carver was grieving, hurting. He’d explore that look later, “Stop fighting me.”

“No! I...”

“Do you think it makes you weak?” Nathaniel’s voice was soft but firm, “Do you think that admitting that I might know more than you...or might be able to help you, is admitting you aren’t good enough? Because it’s not Carver...you could be great...if you’d just...learn.”

There was silence for long moments and then, slowly, the boy relaxed under him.

“I...” his voice was softer than Nathaniel had ever heard it, “I don’t know how...”

Slowly Nathaniel smiled and sat up, drawing the younger man to sit up too.

“I’m sorry about your Mother, Carver...” he said softly, feeling the boy stiffen slightly at the mention of the day’s events, “Magic can hurt as much as it can help. But you are where you are supposed to be. And although we aren’t your real family, the Wardens are your kin, bound by the taint, by darkspawn and archdemon blood. And we care about you...you’re one of us after all...even if you haven’t realised it yet.”

Carver was silent for a long moment and then, “You think so?”

“Yeah...” and Nathaniel helped him to his feet, “I know so.

“Alright...” and the young Warden gave him a small smile, “Thanks...I’ll...try. Sorry for...you know...tackling you.”

“You aren’t the first and I doubt you’ll be the last.” Nathaniel reassured him, and was rewarded with a rare small but genuine smile from the blue eyed man.

“I guess...I should grab something to eat...” the boy said quietly as his stomach gargled loudly and the older Warden nodded.

Nathaniel watched as Carver walked away, and followed him down the long flights of stairs, pausing in the doorway to the dining hall as he watched the boy walk across the room.

He saw Eilonwy run over and hug him, saw Velanna give him small nod, saw Sigrun pat the chair beside her. He saw the Commander ruffle his hair, saw Oghren shove a large mug of some kind of alcohol across to the young man and he saw Carver pull a face as he drank it. He saw the other Wardens make their way over, one by one to show their support in a hundred tiny ways and he smiled.

But he didn’t move from his place by the door until Carver’s eyes lifted and met his, soft and full of something that made Nathaniel’s own pulse pick up.

Slowly he pushed off from the doorway and walked into the hall.

Nothing stayed secret in the Wardens for long, and sometimes that wasn’t such a bad thing.


End file.
